School was out, work was over, my friends were gone. French people were slowly drifting out of Paris while tourists filled up the empty spots. The maps posted at Métro entrances began to attract hordes of people in tennis shoes and shorts. I wandered the streets, even more purposeless than the tourists, who at least had all of Paris to see and only a few days to do it in. I went to museums again, chocolate shops, parks. It was a nice round, especially with the weather finally warm, but I didn’t have anything else to do. No purpose. I invented purposes by sending queries to write articles or just writing them anyway and sending them. I studied, and I went to the library: St-Geneviève with its wide flights of stairs switchbacking up to the lone floor of this library that supposedly held two million books. Few books were in sight inside, just a long stretch of tables. I brought my requests for books to a librarian and waited fifteen minutes, then when they came took them to a table to look through them. It wasn’t the kind of library I knew and loved back home, where I could wander the shelves and discover things I didn’t know existed. I was really lonely, especially during the day when Sébastien was still working.

That obliged Sébastien to get creative. The first Saturday in July, he woke me up, grinning. “What are we doing?” I asked. It was actually a beautiful weekend, and I was game for anything. I thought.

“It’s a surprise. You’ll love it!”

“In terms of fashion, what kind of surprise are we talking about here?”

“Dress comfortably. You know, like for a battle or something.”

I had originally imagined dating a Parisian meant most surprises would require sexy black dresses and include elegant restaurants, but I decided not to mention it. When I was battle-clad enough, we headed out to the Bastille, where he stopped across the street from the canal, looking very pleased with himself.

“What?” I said.

“Look!” He gestured toward the shop, which I slowly identified as Nomades, one of the primary skate shops in Paris.

My eyes widened in alarm. “You mean . . . that’s the surprise?”

He nodded happily: “We’re going skating!”

“Oh,” I said. I checked his eyes to see how thrilled he was at having thought of this present for me. Pretty thrilled. “Oh, well . . . that’s a nice surprise.” I could probably survive it, too. I mean, maybe it would be really nice to learn, and surely I could manage a half hour of turning around in circles by the canal.